when things were good:
his kisses were like a breath of fresh air.
in the mornings he would make me coffee, black and hot, and i'd wrap my fingers around the handle of the mug and take cautious sips, careful not to burn myself. he'd run his hands through my hair and give me a back massage and whisper in my ear, "good morning, baby."
we'd play a game where i'd ask him questions about me and he'd answer them, to see how well he really knew me. "what's my favorite food?" "blueberry pancakes." "how many kids do i want to have?" "three. two boys, one girl." i'd squeeze my eyes shut tight. "what color are my eyes?" he'd answer without missing a